


Hold Your Breath When a Black Bird Flies

by inahailofbullets



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Based on an interview, Fluff, Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inahailofbullets/pseuds/inahailofbullets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based upon part of the interview where Grant Morrison talks about watching crows.</p>
<p>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERCbo_FSJdU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Your Breath When a Black Bird Flies

Gerard’s eyes closed as he yawned, walking down the well worn staircase. The hardwood was soft and slightly chilly in the Scottish, spring morning. He rubbed his eyes as he walked down and took in a deep breath of the coffee that Grant would make him in the morning if the elder of the two woke up first.

He picked the first mug that his hand found, this morning it was a novelty scotty dog mug, it sprouted a painted head of the dog, the rest of the body being painted onto the cup itself. He poured the battery acid coffee that Grant was fond of before adding a dizzying amount of sugar and cream, then stirred the mix with a spoon, the clinking sounded rang out in the silent kitchen. After a few sips of the still too hot coffee, Gerard was awake enough to realize that his other half wasn't reading the paper at the table, like he normally did. He must have been on the porch. Gerard knew that if Grant woke up early enough, the man enjoyed watching the sun rise. Just at the thought Gerard scrunched his nose, how the man could ever get up that early was mind boggling to Gerard.

With that in mind, he carried his coffee and headed outside to see Grant in his rocking chair with a ball of yarn and two needles. The metallic snap of the screen door shutting and the caws of black birds had Grant turning his head to Gerard,

“You scared them away,” the Scotsman scolded his younger companion. Gerard came and sat next to him unaffected.

“Who?” He asked, taking another sip of the delicious concoction.

“The crows,” Gerard just gave Grant a raise of an eyebrow, cup still raised to his lips.

“They had just warmed up to me.” Gerard just snorted at the old man and rolled his eyes, taking another sip, enjoying the warmth it gave. Grant finished a row of the multicolored madness he called a scarf, and switched the needles around to start a new row.

“The older pair was gathering twigs for a nest.” That made Gerard set his coffee on the table between the two rocking chairs and turn to the writer.

“A Eisner award winning author, and you’re sitting here, watching crows,” Gerard then made a flamboyant wave of his hands at Grant’s lap, “and knitting that monstrosity.” The author in question just chuckled quietly and replied,

“Well the scarf’s for you.” That shut Gerard up. Embarrassed, he grabbed his ridiculous mug and raised to up to take a sip trying to hide how crimson his cheeks must look. Grant’s crows feet deepened as he smiled fondly at the younger man. After the compliment, Gerard simply couldn’t sit still in the antique wooden chair. Grant couldn’t help his small smile as he knit, catching Gerard’s fidgeting out the corner of his eye. Even after all this time, his compliments still got to the young artist. Grant startled Gerard when he spoke after a while,

“If you don’t sit still they won’t come back.” Gerard wriggled around before he found a comfortable way to sit back in the wooden chair, and took another drink of coffee. The two sat, knitting and drinking coffee and waited for Grant’s crows to come back. It was a peacefully morning at the Morrison-Way house.


End file.
